


A Confession or Two

by ThatGaiaGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Romance, Snake!Crowley - Freeform, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-22 09:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19664338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGaiaGirl/pseuds/ThatGaiaGirl
Summary: In 33 A.D., a particularly cunning demon realised his feelings for a certain Angel. In 1941, that Angel realised that those feelings were returned. Now, after the End of the World never happened, maybe these idiots can finally confess.Even the slowest of burns will catch alight...





	1. 33 A.D. - The Snake’s Folly

The demon who-until-very-recently-had-been-named-Crawly watched on as the people grieved.

It was, in his opinion, a bit overly dramatic. _We get it, you’re killing people, no need to stick them on a giant cross._

As he looked upon the corpse of the Saviour, he found himself morbidly amused at how quickly humanity could turn. This man had performed miracles in front of their very eyes. The first time Crowley saw him, he was turning water into wine. In fact, he was the one who convinced Crowley to go through with his name change. A man who can heal the blind, he thought, was as trustworthy as you could hope for. Didn’t stop the humans from nailing this bright young man to a cross. One wrong word, it turns out, could be the death of someone. Crowley made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

Aziraphale was comforting the people who came to cry. Even though most had turned against him, their were still people crying over the Son of God. Aziraphale took that as a symbol of hope, being the optimist that he is. “You see, Crowley?” he’d said, “you can’t pretend they’re all heartless. There are people grieving!” Aziraphale’s empathy had then taken hold, and he knelt down beside them to help. Crowley smiled a little. That Angel was far too nice for his own good, as silly as that sounds.

Crowley absent-mindedly fiddled with his hair as he watched Aziraphale do his thing. It was down to his hips now, and getting rather annoying. Having your hair cut was supposedly a sin, but he was already past the point of no return anyway. He had to let go of little rules like that. Besides, he’d never really had short hair before. He might end up liking it.

He could see the emotion in Aziraphale’s eyes. Angels were supposed to be indifferent from humanity, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel for them. Crowley could easily understand, he had the same problem. Had a good old time explaining to Beezlebub why sneaking families aboard Noah’s Ark was actually evil. He just couldn’t stand seeing kids die. As he watched Aziraphale smile sadly and feed kind words to those people, something very interesting surfaced inside Crowley.

There was a tiny bud of feeling within his heart. He frowned slightly, prodding it with his mind. It was foreign, but at the same time… strangely familiar. His frown deepened as he dug further. No explanations, no miraculous insights – just a frustratingly unnameable nugget of emotions. Trying to shake it off, he looked back as Aziraphale comforted those in grief.

Suddenly the feeling within him exploded into a fiery blossom that multiplied and filled every particle of his being and made him light up from within like the sun itself and when the feeling finally reached his brain he realised what it was and why it felt so strange yet familiar and his face fell and the feeling quickly died.

_No. No way._

Crowley could sense the emotion slowly swirling again inside his stomach.

_This can’t be possible._

It was building itself up as he continued to watch the angel’s blessings.

_I thought I would be inconvenienced, maybe have a proper problem, but this…? This is just cruel._

Her doing. It had to be. Maybe not the feeling itself, but having it set alight like that… it’s not natural. Peoples emotions don’t just _combust_ randomly. Something set it off, and Crowley was convinced it was Her. Yet again, it might have had something to do with his prodding… no, no, it had to be Her. Crowley wasn’t all that surprised. Just like Her, to take something within him and set it off like fireworks in his mind. Just adding another layer of drama to the ‘Divine Plan’.

He knew that, eventually, he would be called out for his indecisiveness. He started off as a Throne, made specifically to contemplate Her judgement and be steadfast in his love for Her. Sure, the Almighty did break his heart when he Fell, proving that She didn’t care about him as much as he though She did, but he didn’t hate Her instantly. That’s not how heartbreak works. Those were feelings he had to outgrow, to fit into his new role. Granted, it’s been thousands of years and the others seem to have no problem with Satan’s revenge quest, but Crowley managed to justify his lingering affections. _They’ll disappear eventually, right?_

He wasn’t really that disillusioned with God. He was never fully on board with the Revolution, he always had serious doubts about the Morning Star’s grand statements. He was barely tagging along, he was practically forced into it. He was never happy about Beezlebub sending him to destroy humanities paradise. Had he not, despite convincing Eve that disobeying God was a good idea, given humanity a chance to stay in said paradise? She was the one who tempted Adam, not Crowley. Had he not used the loophole of ‘foiling God’s plans’ to save innocent lives by sneaking families and children onto Noah’s Ark? Hell, had he not just befriended and guided the Son of God on his holy journey?

He was probably one of the most angelic demons out there. He expected to be called out for it, even by the Almighty Herself, but not with this. This emotion, this feeling inside him was a curse for him to carry as long as he remained on Earth. The real pain, however, was never knowing if the only bearer of this curse was him.

He was in love with Aziraphale. He was in love with an Angel.

And at the precise moment Crowley realised that, the first ever curse word was created.


	2. 1941 A.D. - Bookshop Sinner

As the sound of exploding buildings peppered the warm night air, a disproportionately flustered Angel hurried back to his bookshop.

_I really shouldn’t have refused a ride home._

Luck, Aziraphale reflected, was quite a fickle thing. As he popped back from his quick jaunt to the rubble-that-was-once-a-church, he pondered his own luck and how quickly it had deteriorated. Of the things that could possibly help this situation, luck was almost certainly not one of them. The best he could really hope for is that Gabriel, or really any of the Archangels, did not unearth this shiny new secret. Aziraphale was a Principality, which _technically_ means he’s of higher ranking than the Archangels, but he also had the rather extraordinary ability to collapse into a melting plate of jello when confrontation reared it’s ugly head. Plus, ranking was only really helpful when trying to seperate the different heavenly choirs. Aziraphale was almost certainly sure that Crowley was a part of higher court, and now he had one of the lowest positions in Hell.

As he walked down the dark alleyways to his shop, Aziraphale sifted through the contents of his leather-bound briefcase with a careful eye. _Not a single one missing_ , he noted. Crowley had taken care. He was still holding out hope, however. A strange sort of hope it was, but it counted. _Just one mistake_ , he thought, _just one wrong thing to prove how ridiculous I’m being_.

Upon his return, the backroom of the bookshop was swiftly fortified as Aziraphale poured over the books. It was as he feared. Well, not _feared_ , exactly, but suspected (with a slight hint of dread thrown in for flavour). He was unable to detect a single mistake, and he was nothing if not thorough. Not a single misprint, no damaged pages, not one speck of dust. In fact, Aziraphale found some little details that nobody else would pick up on. The books seemed to be in a _better_ condition than before. That may sound presumptuous or unlikely, as Aziraphale kept all his books in mint condition, but it was true. Being first editions, usually also first copies, the books did have a few mistakes (inkblots, stains, etc). Aziraphale found most of them endearing, but there were a few he could live without. As he scoured the books, his scrutinous eye found those annoyances to have miraculously disappeared. The endearing mistakes remained as they were, and he even found that the ones he was on the fence about had faded slightly.

It was almost as if it were tailor made for him. Everything, from the texture of the pages to the shine of the covers, was exactly as Aziraphale liked it. Crowley hadn’t done a good job, he hadn’t even done the best job, he had done _more_. The books had been restored to beyond perfection.

Aziraphale collapsed as an all too familiar feeling blazed inside of him with an almighty roar of passion. It was the same feeling Crowley managed to evoke in him with anything. From the smallest of graces to the grandest gesture, Crowley always managed to make his stomach combust into a whirling tornado of fire. At first, Aziraphale didn’t know what this feeling was. All he knew was that it was good. However, as Crowley handed him his precious books with a familiar look in his eye, Aziraphale finally recognised the great beast tearing his insides to shreds. A realisation akin to ice cold water trickling down his spine.

Love. It wasn’t the same kind of Love he held for God, which was admittedly dwindling in recent years. This... this was something more. Something that an Angel shouldn’t feel at all, let alone for a _Demon_.

The breath had been knocked out of him, leaving room for this burning monster of Love to battle his dread and trepidation. Crowley loved him back. This was a fact he knew as well as he knew his own name. Combing through all of their times together, suddenly everything became starkly clear. From a knowing second-glance at when watching Shakespeare, to a twitch of the hand whilst eating Crepes, it was like a veil had suddenly parted. Crowley was as in love with Aziraphale as Aziraphale was in love with him, and it showed. His dread in that moment wasn’t for himself, or Heaven, or the Almighty. It was for his Demon. For both the shortest and longest time imaginable, the only thing causing his mind to panic was the possibility of Crowley’s imminent destruction. Everything else came rushing in with the air he drunk like a dehydrated feral dog. The thought of him falling, going against what Heaven wants, incurring the wrath of God Herself, all crashing down on him and compressing him into a tiny speck of worry.

Before he knew it, he found himself leaning against the wall for support. It was all too much for him. As he cradled his head gently, a flicker outside caught his attention. He looked up to see Uriel standing there, dressed like a business person with the usual gold flecks decorating his face. She nodded to Aziraphale, who nodded back with as much composure as he could handle. _I guess I’ll have to take credit for the bomb, then_. She stepped back into the shadows, and within moments Aziraphale couldn’t detect his presence any more.

Aziraphale was, he admitted to himself, rather demonic for an Angel. He had committed all but one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and you could possibly make the argument that he had committed all of them if you stretched the definition a bit. Heaven did not know, for Heaven could not know. And now with _this_... There was only one option he could think of, and the simple notion of it had his heart tearing itself in two.

He would have to reject it. The only way to save him, the only way to save Crowley, was to never acknowledge it. He would act oblivious; he had to. He couldn’t give Crowley ammunition to continue an endeavour that would end up destroying him. It devastated Aziraphale so much he could feel the tears track down his face as he contemplated it. His heart welled up as he realised what he would be doing to Crowley; but, in his mind, it was the only option.

Aziraphale straightened. Slowly, he placed the books of prophecy on his desk, and made his way upstairs. He knew who was watching him when he looked up. Blood red hair, that familiar tatoo, golden eyes absorbing him through shaded glasses. He could barely hear his own whispered words as he drew the curtain and walked away.

”I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uriel’s switching pronouns are on purpose, I didn’t get confused or anything. This is basically my take on the ‘pining Aziraphale’ headcanon. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. 2019 C.E. - Basophobia

The world was scheduled to end a few weeks ago. However, things change, and sometimes plans fall through.

Aziraphale and Crowley were quite enjoying the reprieve. They had spent the first few weeks of the rest of their lives enjoying the return to normalcy and exercising some newly-discovered free will. Now that they were no longer connected to Heaven or Hell, they were allowed to make their own choices without desperately searching for loopholes. Aziraphale found a funny sort of enjoyment out of his new freedom. Breaking the rules with little consequence... it brought about a sort of adrenaline rush that devolved into humour when the punishment never came. This, he supposed, is what it must have been like for Crowley after he fell. Crowley, however, was simply relieved that he didn’t have to jump through a million hellish hoops to get something done. For the first time in a long time, he was completely relaxed.

Both Demon and Angel had used their new freedom to play around a bit. Crowley had never really been able to use his lack of gender for anything other than furthering Hell’s schemes previously, and had decided to experiment with different ways of presenting himself. After a full week of changing it around, he had definitively decided that male was the way to go. Aziraphale, on the other hand, had decided to partake in more traditionally hellish activities. He actively acknowledged his use of the Seven Deadly Sins and decided to indulge in them slightly. It only took him a day to return to his normal lifestyle, as he very quickly found that taking risks was not his cup of tea.

Both of them were enjoying life, and especially enjoying the extra time they had to spend with each other. In fact, they had decided just that morning that exploring the areas outside of London would be fun, which is presumably how Crowley ended up on top of a not-quite-a-mountain in the middle of the night.

The hill was tall, and incredibly steep, but still wasn’t tall or steep enough to be anything more than a hill. Around the hill, there were practically endless fields and some lesser hills. The only things out here were nature and a particularly nostalgic serpent. Crowley’s glasses perfectly reflected the heavens, explosions of colour flecked with light swimming in inky blackness. His breath had effectively been taken away. It had been millenniums since he saw the beauty of his former home from Earth. His memories of Heaven were hazy, as it was that long ago since he resided there. When he returned in place of Aziraphale, he saw the city of Heaven’s lower choir. The seven Archangels, Principalities like Aziraphale and bog-standard Angels. It was all very heavenly, as he expected, and naturally the Archangels didn’t detect his demonic aura amongst the million angelic ones. But he was sure that someone higher up sensed him. He would never see upper heaven again.

Aziraphale, who was exhausted from just climbing this mountain-hill, looked at the back of Crowley’s head as he looked up at the night sky. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught him doing this. That night on Noah’s Ark, he had inadvertently stumbled upon Crowley whilst exploring the outer deck. He was staring wistfully at the sky, uncaring about the rain that pattered around him. Aziraphale could sense the same longing now as he did then. The beast inside his stomach growled at him until he moved towards Crowley.

Aziraphale gently placed his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. The demon gently inclined his head, inviting Aziraphale to talk. Unsure how to approach the topic of being eternally banished from Heaven via the worst skydive ever, Aziraphale cleared his throat and stuttered until a sentence formed. “Beautiful night,” he said simply, hoping that would break the ice. Crowley turned his head slightly. “That it is.” He sounded... unsure. The beast inside him kneaded the ground anxiously. Aziraphale stepped forward so he could get a good look at Crowley’s face. His expression was unreadable.

”You seem a bit uneasy,” Aziraphale started. No reaction. He allowed himself a small smile. “Afraid of heights?” he joked. Crowley took a deep breath. He sounded casual. “Not _heights,_ exactly, just... falling.” Aziraphale nodded like this was a new piece of information. “Ah.” Both of them knew they were skirting around the issue.

Crowley sighed. In that moment, the only thing that existed was Crowley. The beast rolled over in submission, waiting for new information.

”I was a Throne, you know... before I fell.” Crowley gave a sad smirk. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? A Throne, a member of the highest choir, taken in by an Archangel...” He shook his head thoughtfully. “It sounded so good. I just... I wasn’t satisfied, you know? With where it was going... then Lucifer shows up with an ‘alternative’, and I thought _why not?_ But then it just... escalated. I never expected a revolution, and I never wanted to fight. I still loved Her... I never wanted to betray her.” He scoffed, staring back up at the heavens. “Didn’t do me much good, did it? I was cast out with all the rest. I was stripped of everything just like all the others. That’s all I was... that’s all I was to her.”

”Crowley.”

Crowley finally looked at Aziraphale, allowing him to see the sad eyes those glasses were trying to mask. The beast whined in heartache. “I’m only going to tell you this one time, so please listen.” Crowley had turned his whole body towards Aziraphale, golden eyes questioning behind dark glass. Aziraphale gently brushed his hand over the snake brand on Crowley’s right cheek. A permanent reminder of what had happened to him. The touch sent burning lava down his veins, filling his heart and prodding the beast. Aziraphale looked directly into Crowley’s eyes with deadly seriousness and said one thing.

“I don’t care.”

Crowley, unsure of how to react, simply put his hand over Aziraphale’s. And in that moment, Aziraphale let the roaring monster in his stomach flood his body and 6000 years of suppressed love manifested in the form of a kiss.

It was gentle, but it lasted longer than either of them expected. When they parted, they were both consumed by it. Fire blazed in Aziraphale’s stomach and in Crowley’s eyes. After all this time, it had finally caught alight. A shared bonfire of emotion, unable to be dampened by anything. Not even the Almighty could stifle it.

Aziraphale smiled. The beast sighed in relief, allowing itself to rest within his mind for good. Crowley’s body blazed with lovestruck adrenaline. What Aziraphale had just done was the emotional equivalent of a jab to the guts. His breath was completely knocked out of him, and it was all he could do to recover as a look of relief crossed the Angel’s face.

Aziraphale turned and examined the fields around them as Crowley clutched at his heart. His entire being was alight with so much white-hot energy that he struggled to form a single cohesive thought. He heard a gulp beside him as he tried to stop his mind unravelling like the world’s biggest yarnball. Aziraphale, however, didn’t give him time to do that. “Follow me.” The words were shaky, but had enough agency to turn Crowley’s head.

There were wings, so pale that they almost shone, in Crowley’s line of vision. He barely had time to register who they belonged too before Aziraphale took off, rapidly retreating into the distance like a shooting star. Crowley’s rabid curiosity, adrenaline fueled as it was, got the better of him. He opened his wings, following Aziraphale without question.

Feathers darker than the night itself extended either side of him as he glided blissfully above the fields. They had an almost metallic quality, displaying a blurred reflection of the sky that smeared behind Crowley as he glided. His wings left a trail of starlight in his wake. However, the affect was short lived as clouds had begun to form by the time he reached Aziraphale. In no time, they were gliding side by side, savouring the cool breeze flowing through them. Slowly, wordlessly, they began to extend their wings to their full span. The white tips of Aziraphale’s wing brushed against Crowley’s, sending electricity down his wing-bone and into his heart. He glanced at his Angel through glasses that had miraculously remained unbudged. He was looking at Crowley warmly.

Suddenly, Aziraphale gave a mighty flap that skyrocketed him upwards and messed with Crowley’s flight path. Sensing a challenge, Crowley quite literally rose to the occasion, flipping over Aziraphale for good measure. The Angel twirled around him gracefully, making a point of brushing Crowley’s wings teasingly. Crowley raised an amused brow. Aziraphale was more confident than usual.

Good.

A silent competition began, where each took turns in swirling around the other in increasingly impressive feats, goading each other constantly. It evolved into a wild dance, an intricate web of magnificent manoeuvres, whilst brushing their wings together at every opportunity. They began circling each other, faster and faster, their wings still touching. They went higher and higher, leaving the patchwork Earth behind as they continued in their dance.

They rocketed upwards through the clouds, ascending through the mist and fog to a place separated, yet strangely connected. Their wings folded against their backs, they hovered in this endless abyss. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hands and intertwined their fingers. Crowley, completely awe-struck, simply hung there in a daze. And in those few blissful moments before gravity took hold, Aziraphale leaned in and said two words.

”Hold on.”

That was when physics re-affirmed its hold, and when they slowly flipped until their heads faced the clouds.

It was when they began to fall.

They tore through the clouds like a torpedo, a trail of fluff smearing behind them. Crowley’s stomach felt like a plastic bag being blown across a pavement by a leaf-blower. His limbs were numb and the wind screamed around him as -

\- he felt the heat on his back, the heat from Hell, and he looked up at his former home with tears in his eyes. His wings were useless, no matter how hard he tried, Heaven was rushing away from him -

\- the G-force ripped water from his tear-ducts and sent it flying into the air around him. He was dimly aware of someone squeezing his hands before he shut his eyes to the pitch black of-

\- ash, there was ash all around him now. A tornado of coal and ash consuming him as he shrieked. It grafted itself to his wings, infusing them with darkness until their pearly white seethed into something darker than the night itself. His once-clean robe whipped around him as he screamed -

\- inside, he was screaming inside as the wind forced his eyes open again. Nothing, there was nothing except -

\- the fire, it was so hot that even so far above it the heat was almost unbearable. Red crossed into his vision, the pure red of blood, and he snatched at it frantically. It was his hair. His hair, once an angelic strawberry blonde, was bleeding to a colour of red so infernal it could only be sinful. His cries heightened as he felt something burn into his right cheek. A droplet of fire, tracing intricate coils into his skin as the heat intensified. He felt it reaching for his essence, and he couldn’t stop it. It wrapped it’s fingers around one of his aspects, his animals, and dragged the squirming thing to the surface as the rest were incinerated by it’s touch. He screamed as his eyes caught fire in their sockets, the golden flames searing the surviving aspect into him. His teeth became fangs as his tongue split in two and suddenly he could _see_ it. He could see the heat around him, he could taste the air. The anger, the mourning, the sheer _terror_ he could taste was overwhelming. The ground came up beneath him-

“Crowley!”

Hands, around his, squeezing gently. A spirit, a holy presence was next to him, emitting love. It was an Angel. It was _his_ Angel. Crowley snapped out of it. He wasn’t Falling from Heaven again, he wasn’t isolated. He looked at Aziraphale, and almost weeped at the tangible fear and worry in his eyes. “I’m fine!” He shouted. _I’m not alone anymore. I have you. I’ll be okay._

As they plummeted towards the ground, Crowley realised that this didn’t feel like his Fall at all. This was exhilarating, the rush of adrenaline like lightning pumping through his veins, the whirling winds having his face balloon out and his clothes ripple around him... this wasn’t scary.

This was _fun_.

Crowley whooped and laughed as they rocketed towards the ground. For the first time in 6000 years, he wasn’t thinking of the Fall - he was thinking of the fun.

Soon, too soon in his solemn opinion, the ground was expanding beneath them with record speed. They pushed off each other just before they hit, gently gliding in circles until they hit the soft grass. Crowley, having no feeling in his legs, immediately stumbled to his knees as Aziraphale landed beside him. He was wrought with worry, it was painfully obvious Crowley had an episode up there, and the last thing he wanted to cause was distress.

”Crowley! My dear, are you all right?” he stammered. Crowley waved him away casually. “I’m fine!” he replied, carefully adjusting his glasses like it was just another car ride. “Better than fine, actually, it’s just - arghh, pins and needles-“

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley without a second thought. Crowley, who had been focusing on regaining the function of his legs, was clearly taken off guard by this. Aziraphale cleared his throat. _Now or never_.

”Okay, I, uh... I suppose now is a good a time as any! You see, this whole thing... well, rather, the uh... the falling bit... well, I thought it might help you and, um.. well... I really should get to the point, shouldn’t I?” Aziraphale cleared his throat.

”It, uhm... might already be obvious, and saying it is probably arbitrary at this point, but there’s a whole _thing_ about saying it, and... well, this seems like the perfect night to, uh... to do it.”

Crowley waited.

”I love you, Crowley. I have for... for some time now, and I figured you ought to know. Well, the kiss may have been a giveaway, but I still think it’s worth saying. You know, just to get it out there. Rip the bandaid off, so to speak.”

Aziraphale held his breath. That was, in his mind, the riskiest thing he’d ever done. Crowley wrapped him up in a hug of his own and buried his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

”I love you too, Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, and they sat there for a while, just hugging. Eventually, they returned to their respective homes, but something told them they wouldn’t remain seperated for much longer.


	4. 2019 C.E. Twin Rings

Moving in didn’t seem like something to be declared.

Now, it might be because of their longevity or status as supernatural entities, but Aziraphale and Crowley saw moving in as a thing to be done. A chore, or something long overdue. They didn’t really make a fuss about it.

It was decided early on that Aziraphale was too fond of the bookshop to abandon it. However, this was quite favourable, as the only things in Crowley’s flat he actually cared about were the plants. So, an unspoken agreement to remodel the flat above the bookshop was made. Over the period of a few weeks, the second floor slowly emptied itself out. Bookshelves became neatly stacked against tiled walls, a balcony appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and both the television and couch got a serious upgrade. The flat increased in size by a fair amount whilst miraculously not encroaching on the neighbour’s space. In fact, you wouldn’t know about the extensions until actually stepping in.

Crowley had taken to scaring off annoying customers as a snake. Aziraphale had been thankful at first, as his precious books remained in his grasp. However, he discovered that Crowley quite enjoyed being a snake, and as such, devised a cunning plan.

The first thing he added was a heat lamp. Then, there was a sandy area under said heat lamp. Rocks and plants were added overtime, and it eventually escalated into a floor-to-ceiling snake enclosure. It even had a door hatch for when Crowley felt like slithering around the rest of the flat. Aziraphale was particularly proud of it, and Crowley seemed to enjoy it, so it was generally seen as a win.

He found Crowley curled around his favourite log when he entered the flat that evening. He smiled to himself as he tucked something into his pocket. Crowley reared his head lazily as Aziraphale made his way towards the couch. It was sunset, and Aziraphale usually came back from whatever he was doing an hour or so before. Suffice to say, Crowley was questioning why he was out so late. He poked his head through the snake-hatch (he insisted on calling it that) and made his way to the couch as discreetly as possible. He looped himself around Aziraphale’s shoulders like a living designer scarf. The angel simply looked at him and poked his snout. Crowley hissed irritably, shaking his head in confusion as Aziraphale laughed. “I still don’t know why you do that,” he hissed, slithering over to the next spot. “Your reaction is simply adorable, my dear.”

Aziraphale looked over to see a very human Crowley sitting next to him. He laughed again at the look of utter confusion on his face. Crowley simply shook his head. Aziraphale settled into the couch a little more as Crowley curled up next to him.

”Why so late, Angel?”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley. He didn’t think it was possible for him to become more relaxed, yet that’s exactly what had happened. His mood over the last month or so had improved drastically, to the point that even his aura felt different. Aziraphale couldn’t deny the simple fact that he was just happier. He was fine with that, of course. In his opinion, happiness suited Crowley better than demonic brooding ever did.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. He had no idea how to broach this topic of conversation, even after thoroughly planning what he was going to do on the way back. He was just going to go for it. “Well, you could say I was preparing something.” His nervous energy permeated the air around him. Crowley gave him an inquisitive look as he took off his sunglasses. He didn’t really see much point in wearing them around Aziraphale. “What ‘something’?” Crowley prodded, leaning into Aziraphale. The angel wrapped his arm around Crowley by instinct. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you straight off,” Aziraphale protested, acquiring the nervous smile that Crowley found so endearing.

”Oh, come on, Angel. You’re already past the point of no return, so what’s the harm in giving up a little secret?” Crowley’s arms were now tightly coiled around Aziraphale’s torso, his head resting idly on the angel’s shoulder. He was giving Aziraphale large, seemingly-innocent eyes. Aziraphale smiled. He knew Crowley well enough to know his tricks, and he was quite partial to the big-eye gaze. Both of them knew how to get exactly what they wanted from the other.

Aziraphale hid the thing in his pocket up his sleeve with a flourish, causing Crowley’s doe-eyes to fill with horror. “Oh, no no no! Not magic, _please_ not magic!” Aziraphale was having too much fun to notice Crowley’s complaints. Not wanting to watch, the demon nuzzled (somewhat affectionately, but he would never admit it) into Aziraphale’s chest. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though. He winced as he heard the tinkle of something metal falling on the floor. He snatched the thing out of Aziraphale’s hand with and exasperated sigh before he could continue. “Honestly, I don’t understand what you find so special about-“

Crowley was, unfortunately, unable to finish his complaint when he looked at the thing at his hand. It rendered him speechless. He was expecting a coin, maybe a bottle cap, but this...

Aziraphale’s nerves were on fire. “I, uhm...”

It was a ring. A beautifully shiny white gold, lined with yellow crystals that took the appearance of eyes. Crowley knew, just by looking at it, that it would fit his ring finger perfectly. Aziraphale was desperately trying to read his expression, which was a relatively impossible task. Wide eyes, mouth slightly ajar, turning the ring over in his hands repeatedly. Unsure of what else to do, Aziraphale started nervously spouting more information. “You said you were a Throne, correct? Well, to my knowledge, a Throne’s true form is several wheels lined with eyes... so I, uh, had it modelled to reflect that.”

He gulped slightly louder than he intended too. Crowley wasn’t giving a response. Aziraphale half-expected him to pull away. That was probably the reason he was so surprised at Crowley collapsing into him completely, slipping the ring around his finger seamlessly.

”I thought you’d never ask.”

Aziraphale smiled with relief. He wrapped his arms around Crowley, gently kissing his forehead. “I... honestly thought that you would refuse for a second there.” Crowley sighed. “Angel, six thousand years of unresolved tension and you thought I’d refuse? Come on.”

Crowley snuggled into Aziraphale warmly. Aziraphale was simply enjoying the fact that, for the time being, they could be together without consequence. The demon in his arms felt like the most vulnerable creature in the world. Aziraphale’s love was so powerful that the people within a ten-mile radius felt just a little more loyal to their partner. Crowley looked at him with eyes like molten gold, and Aziraphale readily decided that snakes, by definition, were the most adorable creatures in the world. He ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. _His_ snake. _His_ husband.

Crowley frowned slightly. “Do you want a wedding?” The question rattled Aziraphale a little. “I’m not entirely sure. I suppose we only need to sort out the certificates, but something more substantial would be nice.” Crowley shrugged. “I’m not really fussed.”

He snapped his fingers. A black iron ring materialised around Aziraphale’s finger. Inscribed upon it were symbols that only eight other people could read, an inscription of the first conversation they had, in Eden. Most people would look at it and probably only mention the Lord of the Rings, to Aziraphale’s confusion.

”It’s not much, but it was the best I could think of.”

Aziraphale smiled. “It’s perfect.”

They sat on that plush couch, Aziraphale cradling Crowley, for a good while. The sunset bled into night, and drowsiness got the better of Crowley. Aziraphale smiled at the very-nearly-but-not-quite-sleeping demon. “Good night, my dear.” By midnight, they were both asleep. Aziraphale didn’t trust sleep enough to do it for more than a few hours. He also didn’t trust Crowley to wake up at an acceptable hour, so he was confident he’d be awake by the morning (even if Crowley wasn’t).

They lay there, asleep, for the night. Whatever Heaven & Hell was laying out for them, they’d take it. One day at a time, like humans do. Life would continue as it did before, but now they knew they could count on each other. However others defined them, however they defined themselves, they would always stick by each other. No matter what, they would never leave the other’s side.

After all, they were ineffable.


End file.
